Literary Resolutions

There was once a small village at the foot of a great mountain. The folk dwelling there were strong-willed and worked well together, happily farming the surrounding land successfully and bringing great prosperity to the village. One day, a wandering god came to the village and offered his patronage on seeing their fine produce. The villagers were content with their lot however, and politely declined the god's offer, preferring to focus their attention on their farming instead of worship. This angered the god. In revenge he created a great monster; a gigantic mis-shapen beast with the body of a bear and the head of a donkey, representing the god's rage and the stubbornness of the villagers. The god proclaimed that every month when the moon was full the beast would descend from the mountain to destroy the labours of the village, unless an offering of a human child was made. Upon seeing the beast roaming the mountain and hearing its terrifying braying on the wind, the villagers took to tying up a child to a tree at the foot of the mountain every month in order to protect their farming. And, just as the god declared, every month the beast would come at full moon and tear the poor child to pieces. The villagers were able to continue their work without further disturbance, but from then on the joy was removed from their labour, and their produce never tasted quite the same again.

This afternoon I began one of my major projects for 2013; going for a cooked breakfast with a friend once a week. This is something I will document more in depth at a different time, but one of the many interesting things that cropped up in conversation with Stu was thinking about a literary analysis of social history, and taking that through and developing ideas around conflict resolution. This lead towards thinking about mythology, as this is generally the earliest form of story-telling within societies. Stu began thinking about recent events in Egypt, and how current Egyptian leader Mohamed Morsi had been referred to by some quarters as having 'given himself the power of the pharaoh', in a manner not dissimilar to Akhenaten; this pharaoh being the one that steered Egyptian society away from polytheism towards the monotheistic worship of the Aten, or disk of the sun. The pharaohs were intrinsically linked up with Egyptian mythology, and so there is a line that can be traced back from the present to the past. This is something that I believe Stu is going to be meditating upon in the future.

When thinking of mythology, my mind automatically leaps to Greek mythology. These were the stories that captivated me the most when growing up, mainly due to the myriad of exciting monsters that roamed about the ancient lands of the Mediterranean. In thinking about being able to trace a link from Egypt's present to its historical mythologies, I began to wonder if the same could be done with Greece, and in particular with its current state of economic trouble. My knowledge of global politics is, I must admit, relatively poor, so apologies for any inaccuracies or naivete from this point onwards. In any case, the Greek myth that most readily springs to mind from what I've read other people write about it is that of Daedalus and Icarus; the father and son who attempted to escape captivity with home-made wings,with the son flying too close to the sun and inadvertently destroying his wings as a result, and plummeting to his doom. The myth is usually interpreted as a cautionary tale warning against over-ambition, with pride coming before a fall, which one could, if they chose to do so, equate with Greece's spending when it switched to the Euro near the start of the last decade.

However, looking a bit closer at the myth can lead us to look a bit closer at the crisis. In the myth the individual that suffers most is Icarus. In the crisis, the suffering is done largely by the Greek public. Why was Icarus put in this precarious position? Ultimately, others were responsible for him finding himself up in the air. It was King Minos who had decreed that Daedalus and his family were not to leave Crete for fear of losing the secret of the Labyrinth. It was Daedalus who had fled to Crete after murdering his gifted nephew in an act of jealousy. Poor Icarus was placed in this situation as a consequence of these two individual's actions, amongst others. If we can expand the scope of inquiry with the myth, equally it can be done with the economic crisis, to take in the actions of the Greek government, private creditors, fellow Eurozone member states and the IMF and assess their responsibility here.

Again, my knowledge of Greece's economic situation is relatively limited and so I do not wish to fumble around clumsily with such an intricate and delicate subject, but I believe that the literary interrogation of mythology is something that can be applied to contemporary events. Mythology has long been utilised in areas such as psychology, where its reliance on archetypes comes in useful for both explaining particular tendencies and syndromes and exploring ways of dealing with them. If they can be used successfully within this sphere then why not successfully in others, such as conflict resolution?

The story of how Iceland dealt with its own economic crisis had a very mythical edge to it. When a monster is laying waste to a village the solution is more often than not for a hero to be sent out to slay it, rather than trying to ween the beast off humans and onto vegetables. And so, instead of austerely removing food from their own table to feed the monster, the Icelanders worked together to take up their swords and chop the beast up where possible. And they'll all probably live happily ever after.

Many years passed, and the village sent many of its children off to their death at the foot of the mountain. One day though, a parent had had enough. Angered by this way of living in fear, she began confronting the mayor of the village and ordering him to organise for a party to climb the mountain and kill the beast. Eventually, after weeks of protestation, the mayor relented and decreed that a group of armed villagers be sent up the mountain to the monster's lair. The climb was treacherous; harsh winds lashed against the brave souls who had volunteered to make the climb, and icy rain raked fiercely across their faces. All the while they could hear the braying of the beast getting louder as they drew closer and closer to where it had made its home. Finally, the party reached a vast opening in the mountainside around which was scattered the skeletal remains of dismembered limbs. It was the lair of the beast. Waiting until night-fall, when the monster was slumbering, the party rushed into the cave bearing torches and swords, hacking the creature to pieces. The god witnessed this, and being impressed by the villagers' bravery, decided to leave them be. Peace and prosperity finally returned to the village, and from that day onwards the produce of the village became famed as the most delicious in all the land.